The Boy Who Lived

Immediate Aftermath

Harry had spent a large amount of the day batting off questions; he didn't want to talk to anyone about what had just happened. It wasn't a day for going over his actions, it was a day for focusing on what was in front of them, for dealing with the aftermath, for looking after the fallen and their families, for looking after the survivors too. Several members of the Press were escorted off the premises. Harry threatened Rita Skeeter that she'd go the same way as Voldemort if she even took one step near him with her Quikquil.

It was Kingsley who, as he held her firmly by the elbow, announced, 'I will be releasing an official statement in Hogsmeade at 4pm, if any members of the Press on the premises would kindly wait down there in The Three Broomsticks.' He also added, rather quietly, that he had no qualms in arresting any journalist who pestered Mr Potter or acted without respect and integrity towards those who'd just been through an extremely traumatic experience. He led her down to the school gates. 'Don't come back up to the school, Ms Skeeter, even in your illegal beetle form, or you'll find yourself being kept in a jar in Azkaban.'

Part of the reason Harry wanted to avoid the questions was because he had so many himself, he felt like he didn't understand everything that had happened. Particularly the final duel. A lot had happened in that time after he'd leant into Riddle's face and taunted quietly, 'come on, Tom. Let's end this the way we started it... together...' When he grabbed two fistfuls of his robes and pulled him into the void, he'd been more than physically connected to Riddle: as they plummeted downwards, twisting crazily, Riddle had Apparated them in a plume of smoke. Harry had mimicked him. The Disapparation had changed into the two of them flying, they defied the laws of magic as they entwined and morphed monstrously; a single screaming beast one minute, adversaries the next, battling as they gripped each other, until, hurtling downward toward the courtyard below... they'd burst apart and rolled onto their feet to face each other that final time. Harry had no doubts that he had learnt something powerful in that brief moment. He had no doubts that he could perform the same magic, if he so desired. He had no doubts that he could fly again like that. And it scared him.

And that was before he even got to the part where he killed Riddle. He purposely locked that part away, not thinking about it. Not thinking that he'd killed Tom Riddle; not thinking that he'd killed another person. Not thinking about how he'd forced Riddle's killing curse back into the Elder Ward, back into Riddle himself, before Riddle, unable to fight the wand's allegiance to Harry, had finally let go as if stung. Not thinking about how the wand had spiralled, turning end-over-end towards him. Not thinking about how the Elder Wand felt at home in his hand, like it belonged...

Not thinking about the fact that he'd probably survived the killing curse a third time. No one was supposed to be able to shield that Unforgiveable, yet the light streaming from Elder Wand had definitely been a very particular green as it hit Harry's counter-defence spell.

It felt like a long time before Harry and Minnie finally walked down the hill from the school and into Hogsmeade. He stood by Kingsley's side with Ron and Mione and Minnie during the Press Release but he said very little and certainly didn't give away any answers.

He was grateful to finally unlock the door to the little cottage and step through the front door, shutting out the noise of the world. And it was with huge relief when he finally stepped out from under a long, deep cleansing shower and he and Minnie both sat down at the kitchen table together, though Harry knew Minnie would start asking questions, especially when she retrieved a bottle of Oak-Aged Single-Malt Whisky from the cupboard and poured them both a snifter.

'I think we both deserve this,' she said with a smile, her eyes never leaving his face. 'I don't want you to ever put me through anything like that again.'

He understood. He had thought for a time that he'd never see her again; that he wouldn't come out of this alive.

The first question that she asked was to become the most commonly asked question and the hardest one to answer. He had talked about this with Ron and Mione while they were at Shell Cottage and they were still undecided how much should become public knowledge. Even from his initial conversation with Minnie raised doubts about who he told.